"Kenneth Robeson - Doc Savage 111 - Pirate Isle" - читать интересную книгу автора (Robeson Kenneth)

“Not necessary to frisk him,” the sailor called down. “The bird is wearing what I've heard called a
birthday suit.”



THEY brought the man down from the crow's nest, lowering him in a sling after trussing him up in a
blanket. The transfer from crow's nest to deck was easily managed without tumult, since the man had
been knocked out by one of the sailors.

“Take him to the hospital,” ordered Captain Hardgrove. “By the way, what's that?"

“This?” one of the sailors said. “Oh, it was up there in the crow's nest with him.”

The skipper extended a brown slab of hand. “Let me see.”

The object that had aroused Captain Hardgrove's curiosity was not quite three feet square.
“Know what it is?” the skipper asked.

“Handkerchief, sir,” decided the sailor. “Probably belonged to the poor nut.”

A muscle twitched at the corner of Captain Hardgrove's left eye, but his face showed no other
expression. “I will keep this,” he said, “if you don't mind.”

The sailor didn't mind. One formed the habit of not minding many things when one sailed with Captain
Hardgrove for a while.

Captain Hardgrove watched the sailor walk away, then turned to the first officer. “Mr. Weed, do you
think it is a handkerchief?”

“No, I don't,” said Mr. Weed. “But I wouldn't exactly know what it is.”

The skipper flourished the square of material he had taken from the sailor.

“The laws of Manu,” he said, “ordained that a Brahman purposing to end his life in religious meditation in
the forests should clothe himself in this material.”

Mr. Weed scratched his head. “I don't believe I get you.”

“Ficus
cloth.”
“Eh?"

“Made from the banyan or the so-called sacred fig tree.”

“Oh,” said Mr. Weed, suddenly comprehending. “Bark cloth, you mean.”

“Exactly. Bark cloth.”

“Why take such a long way around to say so?” inquired Mr. Weed, quarrelsomely. “Or does the laws of